


Carry we who die in battle

by loveinadoorway



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drug Addiction, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Forced Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Torture, Insanity, Rape Recovery, Sex with Sentient Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2803049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Dark World didn’t happen, meaning Frigga never died and Loki never left his cell. Loki’s mind is shattered and his mother is trying to fix whatever the damage might be. But she has no clue what really has been done to her son – and by whom.<br/>PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! I’m not kidding!</p><p>Warnings: Rape, torture, beastiality, mpreg of sorts, emotional abuse, insanity, forced drug use, addiction, a right nasty piece of work that has been brewing for a VERY long time, for the whole Sleipnir thing has always kind of bugged and reluctantly fascinated me. A whole world of hurt and then some comfort, eventually, I hope.</p><p>Titles from Manowar's Sleipnir</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From the land of the living, to the land of the dead

“If his mind is truly gone, I do not know why you are here.” 

The golden-skinned woman looked calmly at the fair-haired Asgardian. The rings in her nose and her eyebrow reflected the fire’s last embers. The elaborate tattoos on her arms and on what Frigga could see of her body depicted winged serpents, skulls and strange, otherworldly symbols.

Frigga had tried everything. Every healer of Asgard had been called to check on Loki. They had all shaken their heads and declared there was nothing that anyone could do. Frigga wasn’t having any of it. She would not give up on her son, no matter what he had done.

She had thrown herself at Heimdall’s feet, weeping, pleading with him to let her use the Bifrost to travel to another realm to find a healer who could heal her son. Heimdall had never been able to deny her anything. Moreover, he had told her where to go, having seen this particular, very special healer across dimensions and space.

So here she was, Frigga, Queen of Asgard, in a small hut made of wood and clay, in a village populated by rather primitive humanoid creatures who scraped a living off the barren land. The only thing that set them apart from a million other underdeveloped dimensions was the woman standing in front of her now. Completely out of place, yet perfectly at ease. Calm, strong and collected.

Delenn T’kar quietly appraised the woman before her - no longer young, but a beautiful woman, still. Used to being heard if she had something to say. Used to her words being heeded, too. She smelled of despair, but Delenn also saw the core of steel in her. The Asgardian was trying to save her son, no matter the cost.

Delenn suspected there would be a price to pay for coming here, a price to pay for daring to contract a foreign healer, a price to pay for bringing a stranger to Asgard. A steep price, probably. But the woman with the sunshine hair didn’t care. She just wanted her son back.

Frigga tried not to show just how desperate she was. If this gorgeous, weird, wild woman turned her down, she had truly run out of options and Loki would be lost. Heimdall had said she was the best healer he had ever encountered, her strength legendary, her powers vast. So she stood ramrod straight and looked Delenn squarely in the eyes.

“I was told your powers of healing surpass anything available to me in my realm. I was told if there was hope to be found, it would be found with you. I was told you would not turn down a patient without at least assessing the situation in person. Was I told lies, or is this the truth, Mistress T’kar?”

Delenn turned around, hiding her smile of approval. She liked this creature of sun and snow. An adventure would do her good, she was starting to get antsy. She had been here too long. She started gathering her supplies and grabbed all her clothes, too. She might be gone for good. There might be more worlds to explore after Asgard, should she be able to help the wayward son recover.

“I assume you cannot guarantee my safety, Your Majesty,” she said quietly, as she tied the scabbard of her dagger to her thigh.

Frigga smiled. A woman after her own heart. Strong, fearless and pragmatic. Her smile died a quick death, however, as she contemplated the question at hand.

“There was a time when I would have sworn that my husband would never harm anyone under my protection. There was a time when I would have claimed that he, too, loved our second son. Nowadays, though, I am not entirely certain even I will be spared punishment for trying to save Loki, let alone that any help I bring with me will. No, Mistress T’kar, there will be no guarantee.”

It was a testament to the lady’s strength of character that her voice was calm and steady as she said this. Delenn merely nodded and added the wrist sheaths with the wickedly sharp throwing knives to her outfit. Women of her tribe did not go down without a fight.

She bound her black hair and pinned it up with the elaborate silver pins that were in reality sheathed needles, dipped in one of her more lethal concoctions. The last thing she added to her luggage was the large, leather-bound tome with her spells and potions.

Delenn put out the fire and extinguished the lights in the little hut that had been her home since she had been stranded here. She looked around at the shabby, primitive interior with no regrets. The people of this world had been kind and grateful, but it was time to move on.

She grabbed her bags and nodded to the Queen, who touched a jewel that hung from a long golden chain around her neck.

The Bifrost took them and it felt like she was being ripped to shreds. After what felt like an eternity, she landed hard on a floor of polished marble. She looked up into the strange, but kind eyes of a black knight.

\---------

This body was not his. It was strange and uncomfortable and filled with awkward urges. He lurched sideways, trying desperately to control four legs in his drugged state. He had fallen hard twice already and he suspected a couple of ribs might be broken. His body was on fire, every sense seemed heightened to the point where even the breeze on his skin was painful.

He was bleeding copiously. The forced shift into this body had torn skin and muscle. The spell had been brutal and it had taken him completely by surprise. Normally, the body he chose for himself felt comfortable and like he belonged in it. This… this was wrong in oh so many ways.

There was even more blood running down his back from where they had whipped him and from where the monster had bit down repeatedly to gain leverage the last time they had let it out of its stable. Hot, red rivulets that burned a searing trail down his weirdly oversensitive skin.

He could hear the stable door open and foolishly tried to run. The whip made short work of that attempt. There was a triumphant whinny as IT made its way out, towards him. The sound of its hooves on the cobblestones was abnormally loud, almost painful to his ears. The other animal drew closer. There was no escape.

Loki screamed, as the monster’s enormous member entered him. It felt like he was split in half. He sobbed, swore, screamed, then begged in the end, but all the noises he heard himself making were unfamiliar animal sounds and nobody appeared to be interested in his part in this, anyhow.

They were staring at him, expressions devoid of emotion. Dispassionate, clinical assessment of the mating process. Even hatred would be more bearable than this.

His front legs buckled, still the brutal thrusting wouldn’t stop. His passage was slick, probably with blood. He had never thought it would be possible to die from humiliation and nausea, but he felt he was close to that point now.

The dream changed course. Through the drugged haze and the spells binding him, he heard strong, certain steps draw near. His belly was distended ever so slightly and Loki knew with sickening certainty what that meant, even though he knew not HOW this could be possible.

“Is it done?”

The Allfather’s voice sounded cold and distant.

“Yes, Odin, he has conceived. We will have to remove the foal in a few weeks, but for now, all is well.”

"I have great need of the animal. The foal is the only thing of importance here. Am I making myself clear?"

The scene changed again, to a moment a few.. days? weeks? later. Loki swam into painful consciousness. They had tied his hands behind his back when he had started to hit the abomination in his belly with his fists, trying in vain to rid himself of his shame and agony.

This wasn’t even the truly bad part of the dream, the fraction of himself that still knew what was going on whispered, giggling insanely. His crazed mind insisted on replaying these scenes over and over and over again.

His vision blurred briefly and the scene before his eyes changed once more. A lab. White tiles. He was on the floor, screaming again, the agony nearly unbearable. Blood was dripping from his nose, splattering the pristine floor with an obscene pattern.

He stared in disbelief at the size of his belly. Contractions were making him double over. He did not possess the necessary organs for a baby to grow, let alone for it to leave his body. None of this was possible, yet it was happening to him.

When his eyes caught the sharp glint of a knife, he screamed again. Blackness claimed him.

Loki woke up in his cell, shaking and soaked in sweat. Spells, drugs and the madness that had mercifully claimed him kept him locked inside his head. His surroundings faded in and out, but never truly manifested themselves.

He thought he heard his mother’s voice every once and again, but that might just be another figment of his imagination, another scene from his nightmares. He had long ceased to be able to tell where the nightmares ended and reality began.

When the pain in his dreams had become unbearable, or rather, more unbearable than usual, he had started to hit his head against the walls until he passed out completely. After the fourth such event, when he had nearly managed to break his skull, they had tied him to the cot with thick leather wrist cuffs and chains.

There was no hope, no change, no way out. His violated body was hurting all over. He couldn’t control the spasms that shook him when they didn’t come on time with his drugs. The only peace he got was right after the needle slid into his vein. For a few precious moments, there would be silence inside his head.


	2. At night he rides into the world of death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delenn is starting to heal her new patient, trying to get to the root cause of Loki's issues. 
> 
> Chapter 3 is almost done as well, so this might actually be one of those fics that I manage to finish. With a little help from my friends, meaning kudos and comments are <3!

Delenn stared at the person behind the barrier. This was no good. She couldn’t feel him from here, she would have to go in there with him. The man looked terrible. Insane or not, they didn't appear to take good care of him. He was much too thin and his skin was ghastly pale.  
She turned to Frigga.

“I have to be in the cell with him. I can’t tell anything much from here, except that your people aren’t awarding him even the most basic care. When was the last time he ate?”

The healer’s voice shook with fury – and rightly so. Frigga had been denied access to her son for the past week and was stunned by how much worse he looked. He had lost at least twenty pounds that he didn’t have to spare in the first place.

She nodded to the guards. The slight hesitation before they cleared the barrier for the healer did not bode well. They would run to Odin the first chance they got and this might well be the only opportunity the healer would have to assess the extent of Loki’s madness.

Delenn stepped through the opening.  
The smell that greeted her was horrifying. The man on the cot had been neither washed, nor did he have his needs seen to in a while. They just let him lie there in his own filth.

He was breathing, but barely so. His cheeks were sunken and the pallor of his skin didn’t bode well. Best be quick, who knew how long she would have. She quickly unbuttoned his shirt, thinking to check the heartbeat. She had not expected to see THIS. There were lacerations, burns and bruises on his upper body that spoke of torture. 

Delenn could feel his spirit, a broken and twisted mess that made her want to cradle him in her arms and shield him from his agony. She shuddered.  
She also felt binding spells and tranquilizing drugs. They had drugged him for so long, he was now seriously addicted. She also sensed that they took pleasure in seeing him in agony when they withheld the necessary dose.

Delenn was seething with rage. This was no madman, no sociopath who lost his marbles grasping for world domination. This was a man broken thoroughly by God knew what abominable methods and then finished off by something even worse than that.

She had seen the former before, many times on many worlds, but it still sickened her to the core of her being. The latter, she had never encountered before and she would be hard pressed to even find words for the anger and revulsion she felt for whoever had done this to him.

“What is the meaning of this,” a voice bellowed suddenly.

“Good question,” Delenn hissed as she turned to face the king of the realm, fearless and furious. “Who bespelled, drugged and tortured this man to within an inch of his life and on whose orders?”

Frigga went white as a sheet. Spells? Drugs? Torture? What was happening here? Surely, none of the guards would do this without orders and the only orders valid in the dungeons came from… Gods, they would come from her husband, wouldn’t they?  
She slowly turned to face her husband. The answer was right there on his face.  
Frigga’s world shattered.  
She ran from the dungeons, hand pressed over her mouth, whether to stifle a sob or a scream, she couldn’t tell.

The Allfather turned to the woman who had dared question his actions. Cold fury sang in his veins. His plans were so much more important than the life of the abomination he had taken into his home for the sole purpose of having this very project coming to fruition one day. And that day had finally come when the Chitauri had broken Loki to the point where he couldn’t defend himself anymore against what Odin had planned.

“Whoever she is, seize her and put her in the women’s prison. No name, no identifier, see she gets lost and stays lost.”

With a small gesture and a bitter smile, Delenn re-established the barrier, but with her own magic. They would not be able to break through. She stepped close to the glowing force field and looked the king in the eye.

She felt no fear, only disgust at the man who would do this to his son. And it didn’t matter if Loki was ‘only’ adopted. In her tribe, it frequently became necessary to take other people’s children into your care. They became your own through compassion and love. Blood never mattered. Ever.

“A man of honour, such as a king should be, would have the guts and the mercy to end a prisoner in a clean and just manner. This,” Delenn pointed at the shadow of a man on the cot, “this is a punishment for which I fail to see a crime so heinous as to merit it.” 

“Who do you think you are to tell the King of Asgard what to do?” 

“I am Delenn T’kar, healer of the Amlari. Your lady wife contracted me to heal your son. Now it appears I must fix what you yourself have broken. I do not understand your motives, nor do I care. You have wronged your son, but that is between you and whatever you might believe in. I am oathbound to heal, no matter the cause. And heal him I shall.”

With that, she turned her back on the raging king and concentrated on the task at hand. The stupid wiles of kings were none of her concern and he probably would live to regret the day he decided to violate someone entrusted to his care by fate. If she had learned anything than that every crime contained its own punishment. The world didn’t need her for that, fate took care of it.

It didn’t signify, really. She had a job to do and preciously little time to do it. If she wanted to make it out of here alive, she needed an ally other than Frigga, given the way the queen had run from the dungeon. So, besides the pressing need to right a wrong, healing the prince was also the clever thing to do. Maybe even her only chance.

Right. First things first. Loki needed cleaning before she could take care of his injuries. There was a small bathroom behind a screen. Delenn took a bowl with some rotten fruit left inside, cleaned it and filled it with warm water. She grabbed soap, a washcloth and a towel and went to work.

She untied Loki and for a brief moment was glad the man was so emaciated, because otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to drag him over from the filthy cot to the chaise longue. Not a small man, the prince.

She took his dirty clothes off and washed him thoroughly. He would be a finely made man, if he were in better shape. She put salves and ointments on his burns and wounds, then sat back on her haunches in front of her supplies, trying to figure out just what to give her patient to ease his suffering.

She was certain that there would be no more drugs forthcoming. Food, of course, would also not likely be supplied, but that she would worry about later. Her fingers hovered over a few bottles that contained sweet oblivion, but decided against them. The last thing Loki needed now was more drugs that induced stupor, even if it was of a different kind.

No, she needed him awake, however bad that would be. She needed to work with him, needed to find a way to pick up the broken pieces of his mind and fit them back together. So her restlessly searching fingers finally settled on a red vial that contained a strong painkiller and on a green one that would make her charge wake up.

There was a large, angry, inflamed half-moon cut across his belly. This would have to be healed with magic, as the wound hadn’t knitted together properly. She put her hand over it and gasped. The cut had gone in deep and the internal injuries hadn’t healed at all well. Blood was sluggishly seeping into Loki’s abdomen and Delenn marveled at the reason for the wound. It was almost as if something had been cut out of the man’s belly, brutally and without care.

She gently healed the ragged, ugly, gaping mess, trying at the same time to impart some calm together with the physical healing. When she was finished, she carefully poured the contents of the two vials in Loki’s mouth. He wouldn’t swallow, so she put her hand over his nose until he gasped for air, after the one reflexive gulp that she had been counting on.


	3. From eight directions into eight dimensions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delenn is still trying to find a way to heal Loki. It all boils down to getting a badly broken man to trust her. Not an easy task.
> 
> Next chapter might take a bit, I'm trying to straighten out some aspects of the story in my head.

He was bathed in light. The air smelled of wild flowers and exotic forests at night and gentle hands were taking care of his injuries. Nothing hurt and for the first time since he had been captured, Loki felt calm and safe.

He opened his eyes and groaned. Still in the stinking cell. But there was a woman there with him. Black braids, pinned up. Tattoos. Bags of potions and supplies on the floor. Skin kissed by the sun until it had taken on a golden hue. Midnight blue eyes that were fixed on him with a concerned expression. And her right hand was resting on… He violently lurched sideways, away from her hand. She mustn’t touch that. That evil, vile thing…

“What happened there? And don’t worry, it’s healed now.”

Her voice was pleasant, deeper than most women’s and slightly husky. There was an accent there that he could not place.  
She couldn’t be real. He was dreaming, of course – and this time, it was the cruelest dream of them all, the one where he would be given hope right until they tore it from him again.  
He turned his face away. He wouldn’t play their games.

“My name is Delenn T’kar. Your mother travelled a long way on the Bifrost to find me. I’m a healer and I will make sure you are okay.”

Her hands felt cool against his skin. Her touch was balm for his body and soul. That’s how he knew it was all a cruel illusion. Nothing good, clean and pleasant happened to him. Not since the vile hands of the Chitauri had touched him, not since they had tortured him into submission, not since he had gotten lost in the darkness.

The woman was beautiful. He had never seen anyone like her. He longed to touch her painted skin, longed to lose himself in her body. But if he touched her, she would vanish, dissipate like smoke. So he remained on his side, turned away from her, so he wouldn’t have to look at her terrible beauty and crave what he could not have.

She took his right hand, rubbed a salve on the abraded skin of his wrist where the shackle had chafed him, then carefully bandaged it. She took great care not to make any sudden moves and to keep her touches as soft and gentle as she could. Lies, all of it, he was certain.

“Please give me your other hand, it needs seeing to as well,” her soft voice whispered into his ear.

He didn’t react.

She turned him on his back. He kept his face to the wall. She gently took care of his left wrist. When she put his hand back down on his stomach, she kept his hand in hers. Her thumb rubbed calming circles over the back of his hand. It felt wonderful. Not real, the voice in his head whispered. This not your real cell, this is the nightmare. Just you see, she will vanish any second now. Or worse, turn into one of the monsters with knives and forceps.

He started to shake at the memory. He made a desperate, scared sound, wrenched his hand from her grasp and curled into a tight ball. They were coming, he was sure. They were coming and then it would all start again. They’d let the stallion rape him again and then they’d cut the abomination out of him again and leave him to die. Only he wouldn’t die, he’d come back here and then it would start all over again. 

\--------

Every time she touched him, flashes from his broken mind invaded her thoughts. Images so horrid she had to bite back the tears. At this moment, she had no idea how to fix any of it. Maybe he truly was not salvageable.

Her mother had always said in every healer’s life, there would be that one patient who would put you through hell trying to save him or her. And in the end, it would be in vain, because if a healer allowed herself to be put through hell by a patient, it meant her priorities were wrong and she had missed the moment to let that patient go.

This was not that time and he was not that patient.

She sighed, knowing she would have to do something she would not normally do, namely lower her shields completely. It would mean feeling what he felt, knowing all that had been done to him, as soon as she touched him. A high risk manoeuvre, but Delenn was no rookie and she felt certain she could handle the influx of his pain.

She needed to know precisely what was going on and where exactly his mind was, if she wanted to get through to him.

Behind her, the king’s men were trying to break through her barrier. Let them try. Delenn knew it would hold, even should she suffer a temporary breakdown from the connection to her charge. It would hold whether she was unconscious or asleep, it would probably even linger for a while if she should die.

She darkened the room, then slid onto the chaise longue and lay down alongside Loki. She wrapped her arm around his emaciated frame and lowered her shields. The darkness swallowed her whole.

It took her a long time to come back to herself. Her face was wet with tears and she was shaking. As was the man in her arms.

\--------

She was there. She was there and it felt more real than anything he had felt in a long time. Still he was wary. She walked towards him, one hand reaching out for him. He grabbed it greedily, desperate to be touched. He pulled her towards him until she was kneeling in front of him, her face serene, compassion in her eyes.

He held on to her hand. She smiled at him and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His shaking fingers gently ran across her face, lightly touching her lips, her nose, her cheekbone, before finally tangling themselves in her hair. She did the same, mirroring his motions, her fingers steady and sure.

“Are you going to turn into a monster?” he asked, his voice hoarse, either from screaming or from disuse – he hadn’t spoken properly with anyone in such a long time, forming words felt awkward to him. 

“No, dear, I am here to take care of you.”

She smiled reassuringly, her thumb caressing his cheekbone. It calmed him. And it made him crave more than just a simple touch. The thought of losing himself inside her body grew stronger. He untangled his hand from her hair, still reluctant to let go of her hand and ran it down her face, the side of her neck and past her shoulder until he softly caressed the side of her breast. She didn’t pull away.

He wanted to put... it…. inside of her. NO. No, no, no, no. He didn’t want that. Agony. Blood. Humiliation.

He was huddled in the far corner of the room, as far away from her as he could get. She didn’t follow, just kept sitting there, calmly, quietly, looking at him with those unbelievable midnight eyes.

“I am not going to hurt you, Loki. I promise you. I told you my name. Do you remember?”

“Delenn,” he whispered.

“Yes, very good. This room isn’t real, Loki. You’re with me in the dungeon at Asgard. This room exists inside your head alone. I have joined my mind with yours. It is the only way for me to reach you. Do you understand?”

Her voice was so calm, so pleasant. It washed over him like clean water. He had known she wasn’t real, hadn’t he? But she claimed there was a real her in the cell with him, outside of the nightmare. He didn’t know if he should trust her. Yet… there was something about her that felt right and good and true.

Maybe he should let her closer.

He hesitantly tapped the floor next to himself with his fingers. She smiled and scooted closer, not quite as close as he had wanted her to come, but close enough to reach out and touch her.

“Show me what happened, Loki,” she whispered, “show me, so I can help you leave here.”

So he took her hand and led her through his nightmare.


	4. Ride down from Asgard to the battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter the fourth, in which we hear of Odin's plan and Loki gets better.  
> I'm not loving my version of Odin much, can you tell?

Odin was pacing in his quarters.  
He was furious. How dare that woman question him, how dare she meddle? How DARE his wife go behind his back? And how was that Jötunn brat still alive, after they cut the foal out of him and dumped him in his cell without taking care of the gaping wound in his belly?

The horse was growing fast, though, and that was what counted. The growth accelerators were working well and the grey, gangly colt had grown into a huge, eight-legged stallion. Soon he would be able to put the horse to use. Sleipnir, he had called it.

It was, by light of day, an abomination. A sentient horse he had created by forcing his adopted son to shapeshift against his will and by then having him raped by that rabid beast of a stallion. A foal chopped out of Loki’s belly when the Jötunn brat had been fully conscious. Whenever Odin looked into Sleipnir’s eyes, he had to suppress a shudder.   
It knew.

When he had read the legend first, he had snorted in disbelief. There hadn’t been any use for a horse with Sleipnir’s purported abilities back then, anyway. But the world had changed and what Asgard needed now was an army worthy of the name. And if that horse could indeed collect the fallen warriors from other dimensions, selecting only the most valiant and worthy and bring them to Asgard, undead or living of sorts, Odin would be ready for the imminent Chitauri attack.

Loki was a small price to pay. Collateral damage for the greater good.

Odin hadn’t been able to believe his luck when he spotted the abandoned Jötunn baby. At the time, the Chitauri had been no more than a rumour, but Odin believed in being prepared. So he had started breeding a special race of horses and had taken the baby to Asgard.

There had been moments when he had felt genuine affection for the boy, for Loki had been gifted with a quick mind and back then his disposition was mischievous, but without any malice. But Odin never lost track of his purpose and so he clamped down hard on those feelings whenever they arose.

The boy’s futile quest for Odin’s affection and approval, however, had proven most fortuitous in the end, because it had driven Loki into the arms of the Chitauri, when Odin passed Loki over for Thor. And the Chitauri had rendered the vessel usable by thoroughly breaking Loki and sending him on the doomed mission to New York, where he was duly captured and, on Odin’s insistence, brought back to Asgard. Thus, the wheels had been set in motion.

What he hadn’t taken into account, what he couldn’t possibly foresee, were two things. Loki had grown up into a man with a mind of his own and enormous powers and Frigga had grown to love the boy like her own. The first had been taken care of by the ingenious forms of Chitauri torture, which had broken Loki to the point where his people could do their work.

The second, well, she would calm down, sooner or later. Frigga was smart, she knew the safety of the realm outweighed silly, sentimental attachments like that. She was his queen and her loyalty would lie with him and Asgard in the end. And the brat was half Jötunn and not theirs, for goodness’ sake. It wasn’t like Odin had harmed their own flesh and blood.

What he had also not been able to foresee was the interference by that damned woman. Well, she was no real threat. She was powerful enough to lock him out of Loki’s cell, but what more could this primitive, inked healer possibly do in the dungeon?

\------

When Loki opened his eyes, he was in his cell and the woman was there, like she had said. Beautiful, proud and so different from any woman Loki had ever met. She smelled as wonderful as she had in his dream, of sunshine and flowers and childhood memories.

Delenn was holding him and they were both shaking. Still, she was making soothing noises and was stroking his back. He was naked, but clean. He hadn’t been clean in a long time. It felt good, as did being held and stroked.

He was expecting Odin’s guards to come running into the cell any second. Odin wouldn’t allow for anyone to help and heal his prisoner, Loki knew. He was supposed to have died when they cut the abomination out of him. The Allfather had been furious to learn he had survived. Loki had been tossed back into his cell, bleeding and confused.

He was clearer now, calmer. The woman was still comforting him and he could feel himself revive more and more under her touch. She was continuing to heal him. She must be very strong, if she could spend this much energy on him and look alert and powerful still.

His mind was slowly powering up, so to speak. He was smart enough to know that what had happened to him had left a lot of damage behind. But he was beginning to assess his situation, was trying to find his feet, was starting to make plans, even.

“Why are the guards not stopping you yet,” he asked, turning his head to look at her.

“The barrier protecting this cell is mine, not theirs. However, we will need a plan to get out of here. Your mother probably won’t be able to help us. She ran from the dungeon when she realized you were abused on your father’s orders.”

“He. Is. NOT. My. Father. Don’t EVER use that word again,” Loki ground out between clenched teeth.

The mere mentioning of Odin made him sick. All he could see, all he could think of was blood, pain, humiliation and the cold, hard expression in Odin’s eyes as he watched all of this being done to the man he had once called son.

She was right, though. They needed to get out of the dungeon. And since Frigga was the one who had brought him Delenn, Odin would see to it that she could not assist further. He had made it quite plain that Loki was no longer needed. Odin had what he had wanted.

Delenn had healed Loki to the point where he was self-aware again and that unfortunately meant he knew he was not okay, not by a long stretch. He could at least tell reality and the nightmare apart again, but he would need time to get his powers and his sanity back completely. Not something that could get accomplished in this stinking cell, without food, sunlight, or some peace and quiet away from the people who had broken him.

He gingerly sat up and took stock of his surroundings. They had not put him back in the big, comfortable cell he had started out in. He had to grin. By doing that, they had in actual fact made their escape so much easier.

This little hellhole was at the far end of the dungeon, thus bringing him closer to the little bit of insurance he had managed to get built into the dungeon wall in secret. Somehow, a part of his mind had always whispered about imminent betrayals and the need for a plan B, if things went South.

He leaned forward and whispered into Delenn’s ear: “Now darling, we need to get out of the cell and reach that little alcove over there before anyone’s the wiser. Once there, I need approximately thirty seconds to get us out of here. Can you see a way to get us out and buy us that time?”

She turned her head to smile at him and simply nodded. There was a wicked glint in her eye. A woman after his own heart.


	5. The world of Gods and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter the fifth - Plotting, insights and a mother's priorities.

Delenn had never been so affected by a healing before. She was bone weary and the sheer enormity of what had been done to the man in her arms made her want to break every breakable item in the cell – and a few unbreakable ones, too. She couldn’t even say if she was feeling rage, despair, pity or something else entirely, she was just raw and aching with the need to right the wrongs.

There was always a price to pay for magic. Under normal circumstances, she used potions and medicinal herbs to do the work and only gave them a bit of a push with her healing powers. She’d let nature take its course once the worst crisis was over, but in this case, that hadn’t been an option.  
She would feel Loki’s pain for quite a while, she suspected, but it couldn’t be helped.

Loki was far from healed, though. She had fixed the worst bits and had made sure he would be able to function, but the trauma was still there, lurking under the surface, ready to rear its ugly head at the first occasion. She could only hope it wouldn’t happen just when she needed him sane and alert.

At least he remembered how to get out of the dungeon. That was priority number one right now. Loki needed nourishment and fresh air, some sun on his skin and space to breathe. At his whispered request for a way out of the cell and some time to make an exit, her mind had started working overtime. A distraction was needed.

She tried not to let him know how exhausted she was and how much the things that had been done to him were hurting her. She had tried to raise her shields again, but had found it impossible to shut Loki out completely. Strange, that had never happened before. His presence didn’t feel like an intrusion, though, which was even stranger.  
Well, that was something to be pondered later, when they were safe.

There was no telling if somebody might be listening in through magic or trickery, so she pulled him close again to whisper in his ear: “What are we going to do once we’re out of here? Is there a safe place we can go?”

He stiffened. Delenn took that to mean he hadn’t thought this far ahead. Not a good sign, she suspected. Loki was not at the top of his game just yet and if the rush of helpless rage she felt was any indication, he was fully aware of it. She could sense how much of an effort it was for him to calm himself and look for a solution. After a few moments, however, he relaxed a fraction.

“Midgard. My… brother… is there. With a group of, shall we say, likeminded people. They… have no reason to help me, but they might, being who they are. Or they’ll kill me on sight,” he said with a mirthless chuckle.

His face looked slightly strained as he weighed their options. She recalled seeing scenes from a strange world, with buildings that reached up into the sky and monsters invading, led by her charge. Maybe it would help him if these people knew he hadn’t done it voluntarily. If they could be made to listen long enough for an explanation. The large, angry, green man certainly hadn’t looked like he would.

But there would be time to worry about such things once they made their escape. There were other, more pressing problems. She didn’t know where Loki’s exit would lead them to and how they would get from Asgard to Midgard, unless it be by the only way she could think of. And that might not be a feasible option. Heimdall’s loyalties probably did not lie with Loki.

“Loki, will we need the Bifrost to travel?” she said, trying to sound calmer than she felt.

Damn, what was wrong with his mind? He should have seen that. Heimdall was no friend of his. He’d help Frigga, but most assuredly would not assist Loki’s escape. He sighed against Delenn’s neck. He would need more time to plan this. It would not do at all to get out of this cell, only to be caught and put in another one. Or rather, two, as Odin would certainly make sure Delenn would be taken away from Loki. That thought was completely inacceptable.

“I appear not to have thought this one through. I need more time to plan, it seems,” Loki ground out, hating to admit he had problems.

“Here, or is there a safe place outside the dungeon you could take us to?” Delenn asked quietly.

“There might be. But I don’t know if I can stand to be there. Which is precisely what makes it safe. Odin won’t think I’d ever go there,” Loki said, his voice tense and his thoughts dark.

\-----

Frigga was standing at the window of her bedroom. It was dark outside and the lights of Asgard were shining brightly. Usually, they always cheered her, those specks of light that meant someone was out there and awake. Tonight, though, her thoughts were running around in circles and the darkness threatened to engulf her.

After all those years, she thought she knew her husband. She thought he was a good man at heart, even if he sometimes was too harsh for her liking. But now? What kind of a monster drugged, bespelled and tortured his own son? Frigga didn’t know how she should ever live with the knowledge of what Odin had done to Loki.

She recalled vividly how her husband had placed the infant in her arms, recalled how happy she had been to have another child she could care for, love and raise to be a good man. Her heart had sung when the blue-skinned child had smiled at her, giggled and then transformed before her eyes into the prettiest human-looking baby.

Today, the sight of his emaciated body had torn her heart to pieces. She should not have run away. She should have stayed and helped Delenn heal her son. Should have made sure the healer was not hindered in her horrific task. Should have stood up to Odin.   
She was better than this.   
And she had to go and do the only thing she could still do to help.

With that thought, Frigga turned from the window and quickly walked from the palace, using less well known paths that weren’t watched by guards that would be informed immediately of the latest developments. She made her way once more to Heimdall. Her brave, loyal knight did her bidding, even though he knew full well he might be putting his life on the line this time.


	6. Faster than the fastest horse alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter the sixth, in which Frigga takes action and we meet a very lost and lonely creature. A bit of emotional whumpage, I'm afraid, but it had to be done.  
> I think there will be one more chapter, two at max, but after Christmas.  
> Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, whatever you celebrate and however you do it!

Frigga walked across the Great Hall and towards the stairs to the dungeons. She held her head up regally, her expression just a little haughty. She smiled serenely at the guards by the stairs and simply kept walking.

_No hesitation, the one called Stark had said. The key to walking anywhere you have no right to be is do it without hesitation and with a touch of arrogance.  
_ _And it worked!_

_She had expected Thor to yell and smash things, but her son had gone very white and very quiet when she told him what had been going on. The nice doctor had suggested they had best work on a plan to get Loki to Midgard, since that was the only feasible option left._

_The man named Hawkeye had been quiet, too, until he suddenly suggested the entire New York invasion might actually not have been Loki’s intention in the first place. Having been subjected to Loki’s control, he spoke of the many ways to bend a man to another’s will. The Chitauri certainly seemed capable of breaking Loki to the point where he might not have had any free will left._

_It made sense, even the angry man aptly named Fury had confirmed. And, he said, even if not, no man deserved what had been done to Loki. Had he known, he would never have agreed to send the prisoner back to Asgard._

_The only problem that at first glance appeared unsolvable was how to convey Loki and his healer to Midgard. The Bifrost was out of the question, since Heimdall could not be made to let a prisoner of the realm go free. Stark, the doctor and Thor withdrew to the laboratory, promising to find a way to transport Loki and Delenn to this realm._

_The red-haired woman led Frigga back to the spot where the Bifrost could claim her. She turned to go, but then hesitated and started speaking, keeping her back to Frigga the entire time._

_“Make sure they don’t panic. Make sure they wait for us. If anyone can find a way here from Asgard, it’s Tony and Bruce. Just make sure they wait, okay?”_

_Frigga briefly put her hand on the other woman’s shoulder and then stepped into the rainbow light again._

She had gone down the stairs unchallenged and now walked down the dungeon corridor, steps measured and regal, every inch of her conveying a sense of purpose and the absolute right to be here.  
When she reached her son’s cell, she was glad to see him seated and alert.

The healer opened the barrier for her with a smile. Frigga sat down next to Loki and urgently whispered her plan into his ear. Loki smiled. A shadow of his former mischievous grin, but it warmed Frigga’s heart regardless. He leant forward and in turn explained about his plan to escape and find a place to hide somewhere with light and air and food.

His mother thought they would be safer in the dungeon, but Loki pointed out that there would be no sustenance there and the longer they stayed there, the more likely Odin was to come up with a plan to harm them.  
Even with Delenn’s barrier being as strong as it was, there were still a great many things the king could do, given enough time.

Frigga left after a few more warnings to be careful and to indeed wait for his brother and his friends. Loki smiled again and nodded, but in her heart she knew he would not wait. She knew he had an idea, a plan, something that she would not approve of. She would have to keep alert and make sure her wayward son would not get himself into more trouble.

Late that night, mayhem broke loose in the dungeon.  
Shrieking creatures from Hell were flying around, all the lights had gone out and an unnatural storm was howling through the corridors.

Loki and Delenn made it to the little alcove unnoticed and unhindered and Loki started to press on the ornaments carved into the stone. It didn’t even take thirty seconds for the hidden door to open.  
Loki took Delenn’s hand and dragged her after him through dark, winding passages. It seemed to take forever until they reached another hidden door. It opened into darkness. Loki took a deep breath and walked through the door.

“What manner of a place is this,” Delenn asked as soon as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness around them.

They were in a large building with doors on either side of a broad hall. It smelled strongly of horses, but Delenn had never seen stables as luxurious and big as these.

A weird sounding gait drew closer in the dark. A low whinny made Loki pale and he started to shake. Delenn conjured a small witch light. An enormous grey stallion walked towards them, green eyes and eight legs.

“Kill it, Delenn, for all that is holy, please, don’t let it near me!” Loki was screaming, babbling, walking backwards, until he fell and kept scrambling into the farthest corner of the stable, where he curled into a tight ball, making distressed noises.

The stallion stopped a foot away from Delenn. His green eyes were much too aware and alert and very, very familiar. Her breath hitched. The horse touched her shoulder with his nose and suddenly, it was in her head. No, not it. HE. Sleipnir. There was no aggression to this intrusion. All she could feel was pain and confusion.

He sounded like a young child, but he was fully capable of rational thought and he had emotions. Strong emotions he hadn’t ever shared with anyone. And he knew who the man with her was. She could feel his longing to be accepted by his father. It was so strong it was almost tangible.

He was alone, he said to her. All alone in the dark and Father didn’t want him. He could hear Loki in his head all the time. Father called him an abomination. Father had wanted to destroy him, prevent him from ever being born. Why could Father not love him? He had done nothing wrong. Had not asked to be born, had not asked to be different from Father.

Delenn tried to calm the creature. So lost, so unwanted, SO like his father. She told Sleipnir that it wasn’t his fault, that he hadn’t done anything to deserve this. But neither had his father. She explained about torture and rape, explained about Loki being badly broken and promised she would make everything alright.

Sleipnir seemed to weigh her words carefully. After a little while, he seemed to come to the conclusion that she was trustworthy. He told her he had been bred for a purpose. He was supposed to go to other worlds to bring the Valiant Dead back to Valhalla. Worthy warriors that would then serve Odin in his army against creatures called the Chitauri.

Delenn asked if he was supposed to use the Bifrost to do that, but Sleipnir had never heard of anything like that. She described the great, miraculous rainbow bridge to him, but he said he had no need for it. He said he could walk from one world to the next with ease. It was his purpose. The rainbow bridge would form underneath his hooves, all by itself.

Delenn enquired if it would be possible for Sleipnir to carry Loki and herself to the realm called Midgard. Sleipnir said he could, but why would he, seeing how Father wanted nothing to do with him. She explained that Odin wanted Loki dead and her gone and that they had run out of options, unless he’d help them.

Would Father love Sleipnir if he did that? Would that be what it took to make Father see that Sleipnir was no abomination? The stallion hated that word and sounded so desperate to make a connection and Delenn pitied him. He had no real place in this world. He was neither a proper horse, nor was he human, not even by the longest stretch of the imagination. He was a victim in all of this, as surely as his father was.

So in the end, Delenn made a promise she could only hope Loki would keep. She swore Loki would acknowledge Sleipnir as his son, if he would help them and thus prove his mettle. And that they would try to find a home for him. A place where he was safe and would not be used or abused by anyone.

Sleipnir snorted his agreement.

“Can you please go to the far end of the stables and wait there, Sleipnir? Give us some space?” Delenn asked telepathically.

“Will you talk to Father? Make him see? I’m no monster, I’m just me!”

“No, you're not a monster, Sleipnir. And I will, I promise. I just need a moment, please!”

The grey stallion withdrew and Delenn turned to Loki.  
It would not be easy. Or maybe it would be. She took a deep breath, sat down next to him on the cold stone floor and wrapped her arms around him. He was still shaking like a leaf. 

“Loki, he is sentient. He is the only one of his kind. He is all alone. His Father renounces him.” 

Loki looked at her with a strained expression on his face. He swallowed convulsively. Delenn caressed his cheek and marvelled at how much Slepinir’s eyes resembled his father’s. 

“He is being used for somebody else’s nefarious plan. He is lost and confused. Remind you of someone you know?” she said softly. 

Loki nodded, face ghastly pale. Delenn could see he was trying to get his shaking under control.  
Finally, he got to his feet, walked forward a few paces and called his son to him.

When the grey stallion reached him, Loki hesitantly held out his hand. The stallion pressed his nose against it. Loki moved forward a few more inches and gently stroked Sleipnir’s neck.


	7. From the battlefield into the sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought I would finish this with this chapter, but nope, will need one more. Hope you'll bear with me!
> 
> Just some hiding, seeking and some emotional complications.

Odin was furious.   
The servants had scuttled out of his way and the captain of the guard was barely holding his ground in the face of the Allfather’s rage. Odin had been yelling at them for over an hour, with no sign of stopping and not even the slightest hint of a calming.

“Tell me again HOW he escaped?” Odin yelled at the top of his voice.

They had never seen the Allfather this enraged. Throughout all the crises, the trials and tribulations, Odin had reigned in his anger. But now, he had unleashed his fury on Asgard and Asgard cowered in fright.  
The captain of the guard thought he had seen a flicker of something other than rage in Odin’s eyes, something akin to fear, but surely that had only been a trick of the light.

“We… we…. We… don’t know, sir. There was a commotion and when next we looked, the cell was empty. Nobody saw them leave.”

“You can consider yourself lucky that you all appear to be equally incompetent, otherwise I’d have your head for this! But what good would beheading you do, if I’d then simply have to deal with another imbecile?” Odin snarled, before striding out of the Great Hall.

They ran off to methodically search the palace. Nothing. It was as if Loki and the foreign healer had never existed. No traces of them anywhere, not so much as a hair or a thread from their clothing. Not even the hounds were picking up a trail, not even in the dungeons.

A group of men were searching the stables.  
All the stalls were emptied, the horses left to wander the stables’ main hall unattended. Each and every stall was thoroughly gone over, the straw overturned and not the smallest nook was overlooked. 

All the stalls, except the one.  
Two guards were approaching the big stall that held the horse everyone was afraid of. Who had ever heard of a horse with eight legs? It was unnatural, even by Asgardian standards. He had learned ho to open the stall door, so his was the only one locked from the outside. And besides being wickedly clever, the beast was wild and aggressive to boot.

They looked through the bars over the door into Sleipnir’s stall. Nothing there, except for the abomination they all feared. The huge grey beast reared up, rolling its eyes, foam at the mouth. Hooves were battering against the door to the stall, chips of wood flying in every direction.

The men hastily withdrew. No need to even try to go in there. The beast would kill anyone and anything stupid enough to venture into its stall, that much was certain. They looked at each other in silent agreement. Looking inside the stall from the door was more than enough to make sure nobody was hiding inside.

Loki dispelled the illusion rendering them invisible next to the feeding trough.

“Well done, Sleipnir,” he whispered.

They would be safe here now, for a while at least. Those guards would not be back anytime soon. But Loki wasn’t planning on sticking around for much longer, anyhow.  
He put his hand on Sleipnir’s back, rubbing calming circles until the horse quieted down again. 

“We’ll leave after dark, for Midgard. The people there will give you a good home, I’m sure.”

Slepnir cocked his head, ears playing pensively. Would Father be there, too, he asked telepathically.

“If they let me,” Loki replied quietly.

That was the big if in the plan. How would the humans react? Could he indeed have a place there? Live among them?  
And then there was the other matter. The one that was probably even more complicated and with even more potential for disaster than the question of his place among the humans.  
Delenn.

Loki sighed and ran his hand over his tired eyes.  
Maybe what he felt for the healer was a natural side effect of the healing. Maybe not.  
She had told him last night that she was a nomad soul. No place had ever held her for more than a few years, if that long. She had described alien sunsets in worlds so remote and fantastic that Loki was sure that Delenn would not be willing to stay in Midgard, of all places.

He was pacing Sleipnir’s stall restlessly, his mind occupied with things he shouldn’t even be contemplating. He ought to concentrate on their getaway, not have pipe dreams of a future with a woman who wanted nothing from him. Especially since she knew… he broke off abruptly, hands shaking uncontrollably as the memories assaulted him again.

Delenn was by his side immediately, her steady, sure hands grasping his, her calm presence filling his head. For the first time, he contemplated locking her out. He was afraid she’d know. He couldn’t let her know. He settled for erecting a solid wall between her and that part of himself. She did not push. She had never pushed, never pried, but Loki just couldn’t risk her seeing how desperately he craved her… affection.

He would not call it anything else. Could not call it anything else. Love was not in his nature. Frost Giants simply did not have the luxury of such emotional weaknesses. No matter how soft her skin and how beautiful her soul, she was not for him.

Delenn softly brushed against the wall he had erected. He could feel her gently enquiry as to what was wrong, but he didn’t react.  
In the end, he could feel her retreat to pour some of her healing powers into the broken bits and pieces of his soul.

He remembered the look on her face when she had said that there was only so much she could do for him. That the rest of his trauma would need time to heal. Time and effort on his part. He had accepted this to be her way of telling him he was damaged beyond repair.  
She shouldn’t waste her powers trying to fix what was permanently broken.

Delenn wasn’t entirely sure if Loki’s setting up of barriers between her and some parts of his soul was a sign of progress or the exact opposite. At least, she thought, he was coordinated enough again to be able to partially block her.

She concentrated on his trauma instead. There was still so much to heal and she had seriously depleted her powers to get him to the current state. She wished she could have done more, but healing was a draining process and she had to clamp down hard on the voice whispering to do more, to go further, to give him everything.

Give him everything, because… No. That was no good. As a healer, she wasn’t permitted to develop feelings for her charges. Her mother had warned her. It made controlling her gift difficult and no man had ever truly wanted to share his life with a healer of her tribe.

She had to be strong.


	8. The living son of fire rides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, I have too many loose ends to get them all resolved in one chapter, so there is going to be one more after this one. Mmmmmaybe. 
> 
> Chapter the eighth, in which an eight-legged stallion carries the living, not the Valiant Dead - and he carries them from Valhalla to the world of men.

Eight hooves were thundering across the black void. Sleipnir was running swiftly and without hesitation, speeding towards their destination.  
Delenn was holding on tightly to Loki and after her first glance into the swirling, eddying darkness between time, space and dimensions, she kept her eyes firmly shut.

Sleipnir had reassured her that he would be able to find Midgard, even though he had never ventured that far before. Odin had let him run to a close by dimension once, just to see if Sleipnir could indeed do it. That was the extent of the horse’s experience in navigating through something that to Delenn’s eyes held no markers and no points of orientation. Yet the stallion had assured her he could indeed see markers and could go wherever they needed him to go, faster than any other means of transportation.  
Nothing to do but to trust.

That same sentence held true for so many aspects of their escape. Trust Loki, still half mad, to make sure they weren’t killed on arrival, trust Frigga to have negotiated a workable solution with the Avengers, trust Thor to stand up for his brother if needed, trust people whose names Delenn didn’t even know to do things Delenn didn’t understand. So much trust needed in the face of such overwhelmingly bad odds. Trusting her own feelings for Loki was another such thing, but that trust came even less easy than the rest.

Loki had also shut his eyes, almost immediately after the stallion had stepped off the edge of Asgard and into the black. It was too much like what he had seen all around himself when he was stranded with the Chitauri. He was trying to fight his rising panic out there in the dark, but it threatened to swallow him whole.  
Delenn’s arms were around him, the only thing that still grounded him in the here and now. 

Just when he thought he couldn’t stand it for another second longer, they reached Midgard, pushing through a thick, viscous barrier into a cloudless sky. Sleipnir was galloping towards the ground, slowing down the closer he got, until his hooves made contact with the desert sand. 

The horse had asked Loki about the people they were supposed to meet. Loki had told him everything he knew, including some of what Frigga had told him. Sleipnir had said he would find these people without any problem. 

Sleipnir had indeed brought them to the very spot they were supposed to be at, Loki realized, slightly startled. The S.H.I.E.L.D. aircraft was parked in front of them and Agent Coulson was already walking down the ramp. Not exactly the first person Loki had wanted to meet. Well, could not be helped.

Frigga had said the man had been brought back from the dead, after.. that. She had also said S.H.I.E.L.D. were fighting an enemy called Hydra. Well, maybe they would deem Loki useful in this fight, maybe he could have a future here. It remained to be seen – and much of that would depend on Agent Coulson’s ability to forgive Loki for killing him.

Loki swung his leg over Sleipnir’s neck and jumped off, turning to help Delenn dismount.  
He then walked towards Coulson. He stopped a few feet from the agent and held out his hands to be cuffed.

“Agent Coulson, I surrender to you. I know there is no apology for what I have done. I accept whichever form of punishment you see fit. All I ask for is a good home for Sleipnir and any assistance Mistress T’kar might require. Please, Agent Coulson, they are not in any way involved with my crimes.”

“We are in complete lockdown. How did you find us?” Coulson asked, voice curiously quiet and even.

Sleipnir nudged Loki’s shoulder and told his father that it was what he had been bred for. Finding the Valiant Dead and bringing them to Valhalla. Coulson was undoubtedly valiant and he had been dead, so he had been able to locate the man easily, after Loki had told him about the agent.

Loki relayed his son’s words to Coulson. He didn’t know how to make them more palatable, so he relayed the message as it was delivered. The agent visibly paled, but merely nodded and turned around to walk back into the aircraft, motioning them to follow.

Sleipnir hesitated briefly when his hooves touched the metal of the ramp, but when Loki put his hand on the stallion’s back, he went inside with them without any further problems.   
A brown haired girl took Sleipnir to a room and had promised to give the stallion some water and some carrots and apples. She had seemed delighted to take care of a horse and Sleipnir had gone willingly with her, after Loki had reassured him that he would not be abandoned.

Loki and Delenn followed Coulson to his office.  
The agent poured three whiskeys and put two of them in front of Loki and Delenn. He sat behind his desk and sipped his own, still in complete silence.

“Do you know that there is something inside you that doesn’t belong there?” Delenn asked Coulson.

“Yes. I am aware of the situation,” Coulson replied tersely.

“I might be able to help with that. I am a healer, you know,” Delenn said quietly.

“I.. aaah… I shall take that into account.” 

Coulson stood up and started pacing behind his desk. Loki could feel the man’s agitation underneath the tight control he was imposing on himself.  
The agent stopped abruptly, turned to face Loki and put his glass on the table with an audible ‘thunk’.

“I was told you were coming. I was told to extend any help you might need. I was also told to appraise you of our current situation and ask for your assistance. Agent Fury’s words, as a matter of fact, were ‘beg, if necessary’. I am generally speaking good with taking orders. Parts of these orders, however, I find myself unwilling and unable to execute.”

Loki nodded. That was only to be expected. Frankly, not having been shot on sight was already so much more than he had envisioned. He cleared his throat.

“I understand completely, Agent Coulson. I was already brought up to speed by my mother. I know about Hydra and your troubles and I am indeed willing to offer any assistance you might deem helpful. Begging will not be needed. I have a debt to repay. There is no reason for you to trust me, except my word that most of what happened was not my intention and not under my control. And that all I ever wanted was a..”

He hesitated. The entire subject was painful to him and of no importance to Coulson, so why should he make himself vulnerable by continuing?  
Delenn put her hand on his arm, her presence in his mind once more calming and encouraging. Maybe trust could only be gained if trust was offered.

“All I ever wanted was a place where I truly belong. To be acknowledged as a part of something, to be treated with respect, to be wholeheartedly accepted as a useful member of whatever society would have me.”

Coulson looked at Loki for the longest time. Then he finished off his whiskey and ran his hands over his eyes.

“Very well. I accept your help, the rest will remain to be seen. It is not like we can afford to look a gift horse in the mouth. Speaking of horses, by the way, what is the deal with that eight legged steed of yours?”


	9. Over Land And Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took me long enough, but I thought I should give you the happy ending on Valentine's Day. My little greeting to all you lovely people who patiently waited for me to finish this ride!  
> Thank you for being there. I cherish each and every one of you.

All in all, Loki felt he should be content.  
Agent Coulson had given his team a speech about desperate times and desperate measures and had explained that he had decided to accept Loki’s offer of making up for his crimes by actively helping S.H.I.E.L.D. in their current crisis.

Loki could see most of Coulson’s team had been none too happy about his presence on their plane. There had been muttered curses and Coulson had to call them to order. It wasn’t as if Loki couldn’t understand. He had been the enemy. His actions had gotten many innocent people killed. And forced or not, he would spend the remains of his days making up for that.

In the end, though, the agents had calmed down and grudgingly accepted him. Probably as a necessary evil, but it was a beginning. They had taken to Delenn right away, of course, but she was a white hat, of course, and it showed.

He had been assigned a tiny bunk and had been given a lot of things to read on the history of HYDRA.  
His bunk was too warm and when he had gone to ask for it to be changed, one of the agents had only shot him a dirty look and told him to get used to it. Knowing that he wouldn’t endear himself to Coulson if he turned this agent into an icicle, Loki merely nodded and decided to ignore his own discomfort for now.

He put on a shirt and a pair of soft pants they had given him and was instantly a lot more comfortable.  
Yes, he should be content. Really. And he would be, if it weren’t for that one thing.

The healer was currently situated in the bunk next to Loki’s and he had no clue as to what she would do next. She had made it clear that she was a free spirit, that she liked to roam around, looking for new worlds, new experiences. Would she ask to be dropped off somewhere in the vicinity of civilization? Would she stay? Would she try to travel to another world entirely?

It all boiled down to one question, really. Would she stay with him? Could the slight flutter of something other than a healer’s care for her patient that he thought had felt when their minds were connected be real?

Would she stay with someone who’s deepest, darkest, most painful secrets she was privy to?  
He needed to know. He agitatedly ran his hands through his hair. It was no good, he was literally running around in circles inside his mind.  
He wished his bunk was big enough that he could at least pace, but as it was, all he could do was take two steps, turn, take two steps and turn again. Repeat ad infinitum, ad nauseam.

Loki opened the sliding door to his bunk and knocked on hers.  
Delenn opened and smiled at him.  
His heart was beating an uneasy tattoo. The old Loki would not have hesitated, would not have been anxious. But the old Loki had died an ugly death, first at the hand of the Chitauri and then at the hand of his adoptive father’s henchmen.

He wasn’t sure anymore who he was, nor if he was someone other people would want to be around. None of these things had ever troubled him before he got stranded in the darkness. After that, well, especially the love and care of other people hadn’t really mattered when everyone was hating him, anyway.

What was he now, God or man? What kind of a God was anxious to be liked? What manner of a man trembled at the thought of being rejected? New, all of this. New and frightening.

“Is there anything I can help you with, Loki?” Delenn asked softly.

“Might I… would you… Can I come in for a moment?” Loki hated how insecure he sounded.

Delenn simply kept smiling and stepped aside to let him into the tiny room.

Loki stood awkwardly in a corner, until Delenn sat down on the bunk bed and motioned for him to sit beside her. He could feel the warmth of her body seeping into his cooler flesh. It helped to calm him.

“Are you feeling unwell? Do you need my assistance?” 

Delenn’s voice was soft and yet so sure. It washed over him like summer rain, clean and calm and soothing.   
Loki mutely shook his head, while he tried to find a way to say what he had come here to say. 

“I would like to know… I need to know… are you going to leave?”

Goodness. It had taken him a preposterously long time to come up with something so inadequate, so helpless. The voice inside his had was screaming ‘Are you going to leave ME? Please don’t leave me’, but he just couldn’t get the words out.

He hadn’t even noticed that his hands were fisted in the soft material of the pants they had given him until Delenn untangled his right hand and took it in hers. His heart was beating in his throat, threatening to choke him.

“I haven’t decided yet,” the healer said quietly. “It depends…”

“On what?”

“Whether I have a purpose here. A place. A life.”

Delenn turned to look Loki directly in the eyes. Her face was solemn now and Loki’s hopes died an ugly death.

“A lot of that,” Delenn continued, “depends on you.”

With that, Delenn leaned forward and tentatively placed her lips on Loki’s. He felt a surge of energy racing through his body, filling him with joy and purpose. He ran his tongue over Delenn’s lower lip, softly encouraging her to open her mouth. When she did, he pulled her towards him and deepened the kiss.

Things got easier from then on. His body held none of the uncertainties of his mind and knew with absolute clarity what it wanted, what it needed. He whisked their clothes away without even thinking about it. Their bodies fit perfectly against each other and the delicious friction of skin on skin was almost enough to push him over the edge. 

His long, skillful fingers found her wet and ready. She moaned softly as he explored those parts of her he had only been dreaming about.

When he slid inside of her, it felt like coming home. They found a perfect rhythm, moving as one. 

Delenn screamed his name when she came. Again and again and again, until they were finally sated.

Loki chuckled, all doubts and uncertainties gone.

“So, does that mean you’re staying, then?”


End file.
